


Resuscitate

by caffeinatedmusing



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Baggage, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, M/M, blood and wine dlc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatedmusing/pseuds/caffeinatedmusing
Summary: Geralt arrives in Beauclair after walking away from the most recent devastating losses in his life with no intent of surviving. He very badly needs something to live for. Or someone. Fortunately, higher vampires are very hard to kill.





	Resuscitate

They had gotten no further than the first landing when Geralt slammed him up against the wall, all hot breath, stubble, the scrape and pull of teeth against his bottom lip, his scent shifting between sour desperation and something wild and nameless that set Regis' blood to rushing. He tasted of grief. He shoved Regis away just as fast, eyes bright with too many things to say. 

The witcher shook himself, expression veiled once more. 

“Sorry. Lets just go.” With that, he turned to continue up the stairs as though nothing had just happened, leaving Regis with his head spinning; too many questions and the sudden confusion. A haunting knowledge that he had missed something crucial where Geralt was concerned. 

_What the hell had that been about, anyway?_

Swallowing down all his questions, he turned, licking the taste of that kiss off his lips, and followed the witcher up the stairs.

 

_It had been getting worse all day. That awful feeling of something about to go horribly wrong. Impending doom, had he been inclined even more toward dramatics and pessimism than Dandelion assured him he already was. Geralt felt it growing over him, like walking through spider webs. The more he noticed it, the more it seemed to cling and spread. He couldn't pinpoint a source, couldn't shake it._

_He had arrived weeks ago in Beauclair with nothing left to lose. Vesemir dead. He'd pushed Yen away. Let Triss leave. For their own safety, of course. Crach an Craite dead. Avallac'h had vanished, taking any answers he may have had with him. He'd lost Ciri. All the old ties of fate were falling away. A devil defeated and Shani had returned to the front. He hadn't written back. He hadn't said goodbye to Dandelion, or Priscilla, or to Zoltan. Better that they all stay busy, stay far away from him. Burn the bridges before the wood all rotted away._

_No witcher ever died in his bed._

_Chasing a higher vampire on foot? Eskel would have shaken his head had he been there to see it. Vesemir would've had an angry lecture about recklessness and the risks of collateral damage. Lambert...well, he would have cursed Geralt out and walked away. Would they have understood what drove him?_

_Geralt had been beyond it. He had failed entirely too much of late. His life was only worth who he could protect and for how long. And just how well had he been doing that? One more body. One more for that cautionary list of names; what happened to those who spent time in his company._

_And for what? Was Milton de Peyrac-Peyran a good man as he had seemed to Geralt in the short time he had known him, or a monster deserving of the grisly fate he had suffered? Who had the right to judge or decide? How long did anyone have to right the mistakes they had made?_

_With that, he ought to have spiraled right back into that old philosophical fatalism that plagued him from time to time. But this time he fell through it into a state of uncaring. Complete moral and emotional numbness._

_The chase was all he had left. His sole focus. Finish this or push until it finished him. Anesthetized....right up until..._

_Regis._

_He'd been given one back._

_No fucking way was he losing him again._

Not today.


End file.
